On a scale of 1 to 10.
I have to scale myself daily with stress and Suze asks me every day how my stress levels are as well. 10 would be high whilst 1 would be low. This morning l am on about a 4 expecting that at some point that might scale up to about a 6 if l am unlucky but if l am lucky it might just stay on a 4, but who knows.
I no longer have to scale myself with Scrappy – l am obviously all too aware of her knee, or l should say no knee, as her left is shot and her right is weak. But l am often in awe at just how well she copes and adapts to things. Considering that apart from the sedative she received for her x-rays and a tramadol after the proceedure, the best we could get to her was one, and we knew she was in pain, but she refused to take medication, and so we simply had to simply use the Metacam only. Yet, she has battled through all that and now whilst she is walking considerably better l still can’t help marvelling at her stamina and determination to not give in to it.
I have an appointment with the doctor today to maybe get the results of the MRI of last week, and if not that then hopefully to review the medication l am on. Although l suspect that what may happen, is that they are simply going to up my Amitriptylines to a higher dose. I hope they don’t do that, as l have to take 5 or 50mg of those a night, and l am still having to take the Zapains at their 50g between 6 – 8 every day. The problem is that they were supposed to be reduced down to nil use and according to the doctors l would only be using the Ami’s which is a bit confusing considering they are a anti- depressant with no real pain relief. But who knows, maybe l might just be awarded a stronger pain killer as the depressants only zombiefie me, which can make the day awkward.
Some of the side effects of the A-depressant are also really irksome l have a continued headache and cannot take anything in combination when l am on it, l have just got through the constipation period, so thank the heavens that l can at least go to the toilet properly and not feel as bloated as the Michelin Man. But also there are things like paranoia which l have found in recent weeks, blurry vision and my mouth feels extremely dry. Pending upon the actual doseage taken, the extreme tiredness can be alarming. The low dose l am on is ideal for sleep, but isn’t good for pain, and the Zapains are for pain, but are really bad at effectively dealing with it. So l really could do with a proper prescription of tablets that do the job.
But in comparison to other issues in my life, neither Scrappy or my neck come remotely close to the long term drama of my Father, his family and his neighbours/friends. That little lot scale me to 10 in a very quick time. In truth l am struggling with all of this saga. That could well be the Asperger’s in me, as l like things to be logically black and white, and currently l am surrounded by a lot of confusing grey which certainly doesn’t help the situation. It is just typical that of course always it’s the emotional side that floors and flaws me. I am not unemotional, and yet l am wondering if l am reacting to my Father’s situation in a normal fashion?
I have the ability to detach pretty well, and that is an autistic trait, especially in situations where l feel that a logical strategy is required rather than a confusing and silly emotional one. My Father is on the former with me.
Many of the things he is doing l can now recognise, not all through myself, but things l have read about as well as seen first hand in other people on the spectrum. My Dad whether he likes me to say it or not, is somewhere on the spectrum of autism. He displays almost text book behaviours and stereotyped attitudes which is quite astonishing, and yet even though l recognise them, l can not explain to him why he is behaving the way he is, because he thinks anyone who is ill, or disordered or whatever is diseased and not worth the effort to speak to, which is why exactly my Father and l are always in conflict with each other, and are estranged from each other.
This too may well be, why l struggle with the emotion for him. I don’t feel sorrow for him. Of course as a fellow human being he has my empathy, but as my Father l simply don’t feel sorrow for him. I am not sure if l should be disturbed by this revelation or not? I feel like l am in a surreal bubble and it is somewhat damning.
When his friends say the things they do, and l am trying to just keep my composure steady and answer logically to try and calm the situation down and they just keep attacking with insults, l become angry but l still try and remain as diplomatic as l can, as l must respect they are Dad’s friends and they are obviously concerned for him. But equally l am annoyed because l know with every word they utter that they have been lied to by the man who l am trying to help and yet they will not listen to reason.
Last night had my Father’s friend been directly in front of me, l think l would have done him some very serious harm, l can be very cutting verbally to people, because l can detach the emotion from words because they are just words and use them like pointed stakes directed at the heart. I don’t like doing it, but just because l can hold a normal and heated conversation, it doesn’t mean that l am not thinking of the most damaging ways to hurt that person right there and then with an attack of the most cutting words. I am not a physically aggressive person, but l have found after years and years of being bullied that if l choose to fight back, l can hurt people more by simply saying things to them, which plays on their minds for weeks.
It’s not a gift l am proud of per se, but it’s a talent l have in my skill set for emergencies.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me!
The above isn’t true, l know, names can hurt a person and they can do a darn sight more when used like ammunition. However, l have my scaler of 1 – 10, and if l feel a 10 approaching l will just have to walk away from the situation and soothe myself.
But it brings me back to how l feel about my Father, and l do wonder time and time again why l am subjecting myself to this angst on a voluntary basis? I don’t need to be sworn at, cursed and cussed by family, friends and foes of his, when all l am trying to do is assist him to get a better care ‘plan/package’ in place.
It is very disturbing and irks me immensely! Life isn’t black and white, it’s grey as well. My Sister and l are slowly getting all the systems in place to help my Father and remove the interference of the so called ‘friendly’ neighbours. Only this morning, l hear yet again that another neighbour has tried to prevent care getting to my Father and an authorised carer has had to be very firm in saying what is what and not what is guesswork.
It’s very frustrating.